


Let Me Have Audience

by Jelly



Series: The Primrose Path [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, F/F, F/M, Gen, Hogwarts AU, snk but at hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2018-12-18 05:24:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11867637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jelly/pseuds/Jelly
Summary: Edgar Leonhardt requests the pleasure of your companyat a ball in the honour of his daughterAnnie Leonhardtat the Leonhardt Estate on the Twelfth of August.Your owl is expected by no later than the Twenty-Fifth of June.Annie snorts. "What a load of bullshit."(Or: Annie's "long overdue" debut into Upper Class Wizarding Society. A story in six-ish parts).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part Five of [The Primrose Path](http://archiveofourown.org/series/510929) which is really just me having fun with the SNK kids at Hogwarts. This is really the only part so far that can be termed a 'sequel' because it actually happens after the kids leave Hogwarts. If y'all are interested, please go an check out the rest of the series!

Two weeks after they graduate from Hogwarts, Annie receives a letter.

They’re at Armin’s grandfather’s house. It’s a warm afternoon and Iago, the Leonhardt family owl, is perched on the backrest of one of the dining room chairs. He hoots impatiently at Annie, and Annie scowls and glares back as Armin squints at her father’s untidy scrawl.

“This is honestly not the worst thing ever,” he says at last, folding up the parchment and setting it on the table.

Annie scowls again. “Yes, it is.”

“No,” chuckles Armin, “it’s not. Honestly, a ball sounds like it might be fun.”

A _ball._ Annie snorts mirthlessly into one of Reg’s floral tea cups and Iago hoots at her again like he wants her to write a damn reply already. “It’s not just a ball and you know it. It’s a _debut._ _My_ debut.”

“Well,” says Armin. He crumbles a bit off the edge of his biscuit and offers it to Iago, who flutters eagerly off the backrest and onto his shoulder. “It’s a little outdated, sure. But it’s really, _really_ not the worst thing ever. All things considered, this is pretty good for your dad.”

Annie snorts again. “I’m not dressing up for a bunch of stuffy fuckwits.”

“You can’t call them that.”

“I can call them what I want,” says Annie pointedly. “And they _are_. I mean. Armin. Think about this. Really think about this. You know what this is, don’t you? It’s a _debutante ball_. My father is literally having a party so he can _‘present me to wizarding society’,_ which, you know, is defined here as ‘upper class pure blood families’, so those fuckwits can gawk at me and introduce me to their fuckwit sons. He’s one step off trying to marry me off. How do you not have a problem with this?”

Armin laughs. “He’s _not_ marrying you off though. Read his letter again. _He_ suggested you bring _me._ Me! A muggle born kid he probably hated on principle for years. Honestly, Ann, he’s been really good about holding up his end of the deal – all _you_ have to do to hold up yours is go to this ball and attend a couple of meetings with the Hogwarts governors. It’s _really_ not the worst thing ever.”

“It’s still outdated,” sputters Annie, “and _sexist_ , and – and – _classist,_ I mean – ”

“Annie – Ann, come on, look.” Armin offers Iago a little more biscuit and brushes the crumbs off his hands. "You hold a fair bit of power here, okay? Wasn't part of the reason you agreed to be the Leonhardt Heiress to help all those pure blood families – quote – 'get their heads out of their asses'?"

Annie makes a face at him. "Well - yeah, but -"

"So why not use some of that power now?" asks Armin. "Your dad wants you to go to this ball because of a silly tradition, right, but ultimately, it's still _your_ ball. Invite Eren and Mikasa, maybe even Professor Ackerman and Madame Ral – you know, people you can actually hold a conversation with. Asking to have, what, five extra people there isn't unreasonable, but refusing _is_ \- and if your dad _does_ refuse, _then_ you can straight up say you're not going on the basis that _he's_ the one being unreasonable. Play the game. Force a compromise. It’s the first step towards more change."

Annie narrows her eyes at him. She squints at the seal on the letter, and then at Iago (who hoots and nips at Armin's hair), and then at Armin again. “Well, I mean, that’s easy to _say_ ,” she grumbles, “but I’m still essentially being forced to dress up in stupid fucking dress robes for a bunch of stuffy fuckwits.”

“ _Annie_.” Armin laughs. Annie can’t help but smile to herself at the sound. “Surely you get to at least pick out ones you like.”

“Nope.” Annie huffs and tosses a biscuit at Iago. “Those are traditional too. I’m supposed to wear my mum’s. I expect my dad to start calling about trying them on any day now.”

“Well,” says Armin thoughtfully. “You’re breaking a bunch of traditions already. Why not one more?”

“Pardon me.”

Armin scratches Iago’s feathers and grins. “Go dress shopping. Actual dress shopping, I mean – find something you like instead of getting fitted for traditional dress robes. Again, it’s _your_ ball, isn’t it?”

“Don’t you think setting all of these conditions is a bit much?”

Perhaps Annie just hadn’t noticed it before, but there’s a spark of mischief in Armin’s eyes. She honestly thinks he’s enjoying this – or, at least the idea of this – far more than he’s letting on. “Nothing’s ‘too much’ if you know how to ask for it,” he says. “Like I said, you just have to play the game.”

There’s a pause. Iago flutters off of Armin’s shoulder and starts pecking biscuit crumbs off the plate. Annie shoos him away with a frown.

“I didn’t realize you had a manipulative streak,” she says at last.

He winks. “I’ve always had one, Ann. Don’t tell anyone though – I’d hate to ruin my reputation.”

 

 

"You want to do _what_?"

Mr. Leonhardt's head frowns at her from the hearth. The Arlert fireplace has been part of the Floo Network for about a year now. In what Annie likes to think was a stroke of ‘skilled diplomacy’, she had convinced her father that it would make communication easier during her stays with the Arlerts. In reality, she'd done it to make things easier for Armin and his grandfather once she and Armin had a place to themselves closer to London.

She shrugs and crosses her legs on the hearthrug. "I want to set some conditions,” she says, trying to sound like she hadn't spent ten minutes memorising this whole spiel. “If you and the other families _insist_ that I have a deb ball,” (she wrinkles her nose at the words ‘deb ball’), “then I think it’s perfectly reasonable for me to find a way to enjoy it.”

“What _conditions_ would those be?”

Annie clears her throat. “I want to invite the Jaegers and the Ackermans.”

Mr. Leonhardt's head bobs disapprovingly in the flames. "We've already extended the invitation to Armin - him being there alone is going to turn heads. Isn't that enough?"

"Five extra people won't hurt, _Dad."_ She pauses for a moment to study the way the word breaks down his resolve. It’s a cheap trick. Part of her feels kind of guilty for playing on his emotions like this, but she reminds herself that the entire concept of a deb ball is horribly sexist and outdated, and she presses on. "Surely, we can compromise on this.”

Mr. Leonhardt lets out a long, exaggerated sigh, but, at last, he shakes his head. "Fine. When will you be home next? We'll need to schedule fitting for your mother’s old dress robes."

"Ah - actually -"Annie coughs mildly. “That’s the other condition. I want to pick a dress.”

There’s a pause. Mr. Leonhardt’s head tilts to the side, confused. “Dress robes, you mean.”

“No,” says Annie. “A dress. Something nice, simple, and more importantly, something a bit more _me_ – no offense to mum, but her old dress robes are a bit – ” Annie purses her lips. “Frilly.”

Mr. Leonhardt scowls. “Your mother’s dress robes are _traditional_ , Annie, she wore those at her own ball, and her mother wore them before her.”

“Exactly,” says Annie resolutely. “They’re as outdated as this deb ball idea. I don’t want to wear them.”

“ _Annie._ ” It comes out as a growl, but Reg’s footsteps sound through the living room and Mr. Leonhardt coughs and takes a breath. “ _Annie_ ,” he tries again, eyeing Reg carefully over her shoulder. “What, exactly, are you trying to achieve here? One would think you’re trying to – ” He coughs. “Trying to turn this into something like a _muggle_ ball.”

Annie raises an eyebrow at him. “Is there something wrong with that?”

Mr. Leonhardt huffs. “I suppose not,” he grumbles. He’s still watching Reg. “But – the other families – ”

At that, Annie takes her own turn to scowl. "It's my ball, isn't it?" she snaps. "Honestly, the whole concept is _archaic_ , but if you _insist_ that it's _tradition_ , then you'll have to excuse me for wanting to at least make it bearable. Can we compromise on this or not?"

Mr. Leonhardt pauses. Annie can practically feel the way he studies her face, and, at last, he sighs. "All right," he says. "Is there anyone else you'd like to invite?"

Annie shrugs and stares at a spot in the grate. "I suppose it's a little too hopeful to expect the other families to be polite to Reg if he's invited?"

"A little, yes."

"Then that's it," says Annie finally. "I'll go to the thing and I'll play nice and all the other stuff as long as Armin, the Jaegers, and the Ackermans can come, and as long as I can find a dress that I actually like."

Mr. Leonhardt's lips twitch upward a little - Annie thinks he looks both very relieved, and very pleased that this has finally been settled - and his head bobs up in down in an awkward kind of nod. "All right, then. Come visit soon, won't you?"

Annie chuckles. "Sure thing, Dad," she says - and she means it this time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Besides, what's the point of doing anything without a little risk?"
> 
> Or: Mikasa and Annie have a little talk about this deb ball thing.

The invites arrive a week later.

It's a quiet morning. Annie's halfway through a piece of toast when Iago swoops in through the kitchen window, drops Armin's invite into the fruit bowl, and settles expectantly on the backrest of one the dining room chairs. He hoots at her - Annie's pretty sure he just wants food - and she scowls and tosses a bit of her toast into the air for him to catch.

"Ooh, is that the invite?"

Annie makes a face at it, but she swivels around in her chair to bid Armin good morning. 

His hair is tousled and hisTARDIS pyjama pants are worn and wrinkled, but he looks rested and his eyes are bright. Annie wonders for a moment how he manages to have so much energy all the time, but he grins at her, and that alone is enough to wipe the grimace off her face. "You look like you slept well," she says mildly.

He offers her a cheeky grin. "I imagine I would have slept even better if you'd stayed with me the whole night.”

Annie flushes at that, and she huffs and swivels back around. "You really shouldn't be so casual about that," she mumbles.

Armin laughs. The sound makes her face feel hotter than it already is.

"I don't see why you're so embarrassed," he chuckles, leaning over the back of her chair to kiss her hair. "You know Grandpa doesn't come home 'til the day after tomorrow."

"Not the point." Annie wrinkles her nose at him and reaches for the invitation. "For you."

Armin's grin widens as he takes it from her. He pads into the kitchen to turn the kettle on, dorky whale slippers shuffling gently against the tiles, and reads: " _To Mr. Armin Arlert, Edgar Leonhardt requests the pleasure of your company at a ball in honour of his daughter Annie Leonhardt at the Leonhardt Estate on the Twelfth of August. Your owl is expected no later than the Twenty-Fifth of June._ "

Annie scoffs. "What a load of bullshit," she grumbles. 

"It's  _not_ that bad, Ann, we talked about this."

"That's easy for you to say," mutters Annie, sinking lower into her chair. "It isn't  _your_ ball."

She can practically feel Armin rolling his eyes at her from all the way over here. "Come on," he says, shuffling back into the dining room with two steaming mugs. "If you keep expecting it to be awful, it will be. Think of it... as a chance to make a statement, instead. Let all those stuffy purebloods - "

"Fuckwits."

"- Know that you're there to do business and that you won't tolerate their old and outdated attitudes."

Annie makes a face at him. “...By letting my dad present me to them in an old outdated ceremony?"

Armin chuckles again and takes the seat opposite her. "I suppose you have a point there," he says. "Change takes time, Ann. If you're gonna get them to grow up a little, you have to start somewhere. You just have to be… diplomatic.”

She snorts. “I can be as diplomatic as humanly possible, Ar, that doesn’t mean _they_ will be.”

Armin scoffs into his tea and reaches for her hand over the table. “You can handle them,” he says gently, rubbing small circles into her thumb. “I know you can.”

 

 

Some time in the early afternoon, the fireplace comes to life in a great  _whoosh_  of green flames. Annie's in an armchair with one of Reg's (many) sci-fi novels when it happens. She frowns, and she opens her mouth to ask if they're expecting anyone today, when she's rather rudely interrupted by Eren tumbling ungracefully onto the hearthrug.

She stares.

Eren stares back. Then he gets up, brushes the soot from his shoulders, and practically roars, "A _deb ball? Really?!"_

"Well, hello to you too," says Annie crisply, snapping her book shut. 

She hears Armin trip over his own feet in his rush to get out of the kitchen. "I thought I heard -  _Eren?_ "

Eren jabs an accusatory finger at Annie. " _Your girlfriend's having deb ball!”_

The flames whoosh green again, and Annie peers past Eren to find Mikasa's head bobbing up and down in the fireplace. 

"Jesus, Eren, I said  _not_  to just barge in. Sorry," she adds to Armin and Annie. "We should have sent an owl or something first. Can I come through?"

Annie wants to say something sassy, but Armin beckons Mikasa through before she can get anything out. 

"Sorry," Mikasa says again. "I shouldn't have sent Eren through first. Uh - how are you both?"

Annie snorts and sets her book down on the coffee table. "Cut the crap, Mikasa, Jaeger here ruined the chance for pleasantries when he burst out of the fireplace unannounced. Given the way he screamed it, I can only assume this surprise visit is about the ball?"

"Uhm – yeah," sputters Eren. He looks almost personally offended by the idea that she would agree to it. "What, are you getting married off now? What about Armin? I mean I know you made stuff up with your dad, but when did you become such a priss?”

Annie's fingers twitch, and she eyes her wand, cursing herself for leaving it on the other side of the living room. Maybe if she tries hard enough, it’ll summon itself. "I see you're still as tactless as ever," she snarls. 

"Ignore him," snaps Mikasa. She eases herself between them like she’s expecting someone to start throwing hexes. "Let's go for a walk, hey, Annie?"

"Pardon me?"

"A walk," says Mikasa firmly, tugging Annie out of her armchair. "I'm gonna level with you, okay, as much as he deserves it for what he said, I'd really rather you didn't murder my boyfriend in Armin's granddad's living room."

 

 

It's a longish walk.

Annie leads Mikasa past the blocky apartments on Warrior Square, all the way along Eversfield Place, and onto Hasting Pier, and while there’s probably a lot to talk about, they don't talk much. Mikasa makes no apologies Eren’s behalf, which Annie is pretty grateful for, mostly because _she_ shouldn't have to apologise to begin with - it's not her fault that Eren has never had an ounce of tact in his system, after all - but also because what should have been a peaceful afternoon in Hastings is, once again, peaceful.

The ocean breeze whips her bangs around her face and Annie sucks in a breath, relishing the taste of salt in the air. Beside her, Mikasa readjusts her scarf and tugs a crumpled invite from her pocket.

She doesn't say anything. She just hands it to Annie, and she waits.

It's a solid minute before Annie groans and shoves it back into Mikasa's hands. 

"It's tradition," she grumbles at last. "My dad insists. According to him, I should have had one when I turned sixteen and this is - apparently -  _long_  overdue. The other families have been waiting and if I'm going to commit to being the Leonhardt Heiress, then I can't avoid it. It's not that big of a deal."

"We were just surprised," says Mikasa mildly. "You never seemed like the type. Also, a heads up might have been nice. It did sort of come out of nowhere."

"Eren seemed less surprised and more pissed off."

"Eren finds a way to be pissed off about everything, Ann," chuckles Mikasa. "Deb balls have been… you know, traditionally associated with getting married off. Armin’s his best friend, and he’s been rooting for you both since forever, so the idea that you would agree to one sort of messed him up.” She pauses and watches Annie out of the corner of her eye.

“I’m not getting married off,” says Annie firmly. “I would never have agreed to it if that was on the table. I still have to meet all their sons – ” She grimaces and shifts uncomfortably – “but my dad had Armin on the guest list from the beginning. He’s had a fair bit to deal with too, you know – the other families have been bothering him about presenting me since I turned sixteen. He’s… actually been really good about the whole thing.”

“Yeah?” Mikasa chuckles. “I’m glad. It’s good to know he’s making an effort for you. Especially given all the stuff that went down while we were still in school.” She purses her lips and fiddles with the invitation. “So… how'd we make the guest list? I thought your dad hated us on principle."

Annie shrugs. "Like I said, he’s been pretty good about it."

"That doesn't really answer the question."

Annie heaves a sigh and slumps against the railing of the pier. "I asked," she mutters at last. "Armin suggested it. It's supposed to be my ball and all - I should at least get to invite people whose company I can actually stand."

"I'm flattered," Mikasa snorts.

They lapse into a comfortable pause. Annie breathes in the salty sea air once more, envious of every other person here who gets enjoy the sunshine and the breeze without having to deal with the idea of having a damn deb ball. She sighs. "I really don't want to do this, Mikasa," she mumbles at last. "Armin keeps talking about it like it's this... great opportunity to - to sort of turn things around within pure blood communities. He's  _excited_  and he genuinely believes that I can -  _effect_  change and shit but... it's a big job, and those fuckwits aren't exactly open to change." She sucks in a breath. “You and Armin... you’ve done this all before. You were both prefects, and then you were Head Boy and Girl – I did, like, the occasional pep talk before a match but I’ve never been any good at being diplomatic besides that.”

Mikasa sniggers a little into her scarf, and, despite herself, Annie can't help but feel a little better. If anything, at least she doesn't disagree. 

"Everything's going to be fine, Ann," she says, bumping Annie's elbows gently. "Armin, and Eren, and I - we'll help you out, and - you know, if that means helping you write a speech or something and proofreading it so that you don't accidentally call anyone a fuckwit to their face, or hexing someone and making it look like an accident - we can do those things for you - it's not like we don't have experience."

"It's not just that, Mika." Annie scrunches her eyes shut and massages her temples gently. "It's... after all this time actually getting to know my dad, and after all the effort we’ve put in, I just don't want to disappoint him. I don't want to - to be that weak link in the chain and break up my family's business because no other families will trade with us."

"Don't you think that's catastrophizing a little?"

"Is it?"

Mikasa pauses. She leans against the railing and sucks in a breath. "No," she says, at last. "Yeah, okay, I can see how that might be a concern. But, okay, but - if you're dad believed that that was likely, I don't think he would have worked so hard for a compromise. Besides, what's the point of doing anything without a little risk?"

Despite herself, Annie snorts. "Am I going to have to talk to your uncle about your little gambling problem?"

Mikasa laughs. "It’s not a problem if I win all my bets. And my bets are on you."

There's another pause. All in all, perhaps Eren bursting unannounced through Armin's fireplace isn't the most unfortunate thing that's happened today. She won't admit it but this little talk was nice - she hadn't realized how much she'd needed to talk out her problems with someone that isn’t Armin. 

At last, Mikasa nudges her again. "So are your dress robes supposed to be traditional as well?"

"Ah." Annie flushes a little. "That was the other condition I set. I'm picking out a dress."

"Have you got one in mind already?"

"Uh." Annie flushes even deeper. "No. I - uh - I don't think I'd thought that far ahead, to be honest. I just set it as a condition so I don't have to wear my mum's."

Mikasa's face splits into a grin. "I think I know what you and I are going to be doing next weekend."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Where the heck have you been, Jelly? WELL, it's been a busy couple of weeks. Among others, the reasons I haven't been writing are as follows:  
> a- Uncharted: The Lost Legacy  
> b- Dragons: Race to the Edge Season 5  
> c- Buffy the Vampire Slayer  
> d- workworkworkworkwork
> 
> 2) I was gonna treat this like a 12 Day Detox but I am hella weak.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have ideas,” Annie says simply. “Good ideas, I think. Like all this work and all the work we’ll have to put in to deal with the other families might actually pay off.”
> 
> Or: Mikasa and Annie find a dress - and a friend.

“Well, this was a bust.”

“You’re not exactly making it easy, Annie.”

It’s Saturday morning. After spending the most part of two summers with Armin and Reg, Annie likes to think that she’s grown used to the muggle world, but as she and Mikasa wander past the line of stores on Charing Cross Road, she is reminded that she has not. She wrinkles her nose at the smell of exhaust, trying not to wince as muggles rush past in rattling cars and monstrous red buses, and she scowls at every mannequin staring out at them wearing garish, impractical evening gowns.

“These are all ridiculous, Mikasa,” she snaps. It comes out a bit meaner than she intends, but it’s not like it isn’t true. She pauses in front of a shop and gestures at a twig-like mannequin in a hideous pink fish-tail dress. It hurts her eyes. “I mean look at this one. How is _anyone_ supposed to move in that?”

Mikasa huffs impatiently. “We could always go back to dress robes,” she grumbles. “It was _your_ idea to find a muggle dress just to spite the pure blood community.”

“I know that,” groans Annie, “I honestly still want to, but this is frustrating.”

 Mikasa just huffs again, and she shakes her head and tugs gently on Annie’s elbow. “Why don’t we take a break?” she says. “The Leaky Cauldron is just up there – we can grab some lunch and then we can go for a wander in Diagon Alley. We have to pick up dress robes for the boys, anyway.”

“I guess,” mutters Annie, but Mikasa tugs her onwards and into the dimly lit tavern without another word.

They get two steps in when someone in the corner waves and calls them over.

“Mikasa! Annie! Hey!”

“Krista?” Mikasa laughs and waves back. Beside her, Annie offers the smaller blonde a smile. “Hey,” she greets. “I know it’s only been a month since we all left Hogwarts, but it’s good to see you!”

 Krista chuckles, climbing over her seat to hug them both. The purple name badge on her robes glints up at them and Annie recalls a hazy memory of their final classes, when Krista had said that she’d be interning at Madam Malkin’s over the summer. “What brings you guys here today?”

Annie shrugs and eases herself out of Krista’s grip. “Eh, you know. Just picking up some dress robes for Armin and Eren.”

“Oh, for your deb ball?”

Annie stares at her. “How do _you_ know about that?”

Krista grins at them and motions for them both to sit down. “Ah, yeah – sorry – my dad’s having me make him some new dress robes for it.”

Annie frowns a little and runs through the list of pure blood families in her mind. Lenz is not one of them, and she could have sworn that Krista was in Hufflepuff during their time at Hogwarts – she doubts any pure blood father wouldn't have disputed that. She still remembers her father’s rampage through the school after she’d been sorted. She tilts her head curiously. “Your dad?”

Krista waves her off. “Story for another time,” she says briskly. “I heard you were breaking some traditions. Is it true that you’re looking for muggle dresses?”

“Uh, yeah, actually,” answers Mikasa. She shoots Annie a look. “Although, actually finding one is turning out to be problematic.”

Krista sighs dreamily at the both of them and rests her chin in her hands. “I think it’s a great idea,” she says. “Muggles are so creative when it comes to gowns. You know, I’ve been experimenting with some designs – blimey, I’d love to open my own shop one day – ”

The rest of whatever Krista is saying sort of fades away for a moment, because the wheels in Annie’s mind have begun to turn. “Designs?” she says. “Sorry – I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Krista nods eagerly. “Yeah – sort of a mix between muggle gowns and robes. Wizarding robes are all sort of… the same. I mean – ” She waves her sleeves around. “These are basically the same as our uniforms from Hogwarts, and the dress robes that have already been sold for the ball aren’t exactly… ball worthy, you know?”

Mikasa raises an eyebrow at Annie.

Annie smirks bacm, and suddenly understanding lights up Mikasa's features.

“Can we have a look?” Mikasa asks. “I mean. I know it’s sort of sudden but – ”

Krista chuckles. “I have them here, if you’re really that interested. I draw when the shop’s not busy.” She tugs a sketchbook out of her satchel – one of those muggle ones with the spiral binding – and slides it across the table for Annie and Mikasa.

They peer over it together, and Annie feels the corners of her lips tug upwards.

They’re beautiful designs. For one, the gowns aren’t garish. Krista seems to like pastel colours and the occasional deep red or black – nothing like the pink monstrosity they’d passed on the way here. For another, they don’t look ridiculous. Krista’s are simple but elegant, and she has designs for more than just twig-like figures. Most of all, they’re obviously muggle gowns with wizard influences – outer robes, starry lace, blooming chiffon lilies – among other little features Annie would never even have dreamed of.

“These are fantastic,” says Mikasa. “Ann, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I got there first,” says Annie. She grins at Krista. “Hey, is it too much to ask if you could make us some? We’re happy to pay for material and labour.”

Krista’s face (almost literally) lights up. Annie’s almost certain that she couldn’t look any more excited if she tried. “Really? Is this for real?”

“Yeah,” says Mikasa. “Ann, here, is really pushing for finding a good balance between both worlds so that the pure blood community will stop being all-around dicks to anything remotely muggle related. _These_ are amazing, and proof that balance _works._ What do you say?”

Krista practically squeals, and she claps her hands together and bounces excitedly in her seat. “Yes. Absolutely. My gosh, this is so exciting! I honestly wish I could go too!”

Annie catches Mikasa’s eye. They grin at each other.

“Would you like to?” Annie asks.

Krista chuckles, but she shakes her head, looking less than eager for the first time since Annie and Mikasa walked into The Leaky Cauldron. “No. Well – I mean, I would _love_ to go, but my dad –”

“Fuck your dad,” says Annie. “Whoever he may be. It’s my ball. Would you like to go?”

“Well – yeah – I mean – that would be _fantastic_.”

Annie grins. “I can make that happen. And I can make it so you can bring Ymir too.”

There’s a pause. Then Krista’s laughing again, and she hides her face in her hands to stifle her laughter. “Honestly Ann, today just became the best day ever. That would be amazing.”  
  


 

Later that night, as she climbs off Armin to settle beside him in his bed, Annie rests her head on his bare shoulder and lets out a contented breath.

Armin strokes her hair gently and places a kiss on her forehead. “You seem much less tense,” he says mildly. “Not just because – you know – but… I dunno, you just seem a lot less tense.”

“I have ideas,” she says simply. “Good ideas, I think. Like all this work and all the work we’ll have to put in to deal with the other families might actually pay off.”

“You wanna talk them over?”

Annie sighs and shakes her head. “No,” she says. “Not now. Right now, I just want to be with you.”

Armin tilts his head forward and blinks. “Does that mean you’ll stay with me tonight?”

There’s a pause. Annie flushes a little at the idea, but the idea of waking up beside him tomorrow is a _really_ nice thought. She nods and shuffles up a little to kiss his cheek. “Yeah,” she whispers. “I think I will.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Krista and Ymir have only just appeared in this series, (Ymir hasn't even, really) and I am a little mad at myself for it, BUT I have some kick ass ideas about the instalment after this and it will feature Krista and Ymir to make up for it. I got an ask on tumblr ages ago about how Krista might become Historia in this series, and now that she's made her debut, BOY am I keen to write it.
> 
> 2) Historia seems to like to make clothes in a lot of AUs that I write. I think I'm projecting the part of my personality that loves to sew into her character. Every year, there's this medieval festival here in Queensland, and it's fucking awesome on it's own, but often one of the highlights of my year is the month and a bit I spend making costumes for it.
> 
> 3) One of my biggest pet peeves about the movies is that no one actually wears robes. They were cloak-y things over the top of their standard Hogwarts uniforms but they're not _robes_. The dress robes the kids wear to the Yule Ball? Not robes - just a regular black tie wear. I like to think that dress robes are a bit more medieval looking and are actual robes.
> 
> 4) Y'all didn't think I couldn't get any more nerdy, huh?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Focus, come on.” Krista gives them both hard stare. “They’ll eat you alive if you’re not prepared for this.”

One week before the ball, Mr. and Mrs. Jaeger head out of town for a weekend and, in what Annie thinks is hilariously uncharacteristic of her, Mikasa kicks Eren out of the house and swaps him out for herself and Krista. She orders Chinese from the takeaway place down the road, conjures a couple of mattresses and some sleeping bags out of the air, and puts on _Les_ _Miserables_ (“If it were up to Mum, the only exposure to the muggle world that Eren and I might have had would have been musicals,”) as they settle into the couch.

It’s a pretty novel setup - for Annie, at least.

She thinks she might like it more if she knew how to use chopsticks though.

“So how do you want to do this?”

Annie wrinkles her nose. “With a fork,” she grumbles, dropping the same bit of chicken she’s been trying to pick up for the fourth time in a row.

“The _ball_ , Ann,” laughs Mikasa, but she waves her wand deftly and summons a fork for Annie anyway. “Did you want to go all together? Are we Floo-ing to yours?”

“I think it’d be fun to go all together,” adds Krista cheerfully. “I can help you both with your hair and makeup too.”

Annie shrugs. “Whichever you two prefer, I suppose. I don’t think my dad will mind if you turn up early.”

“Is that Annie for _‘he’s not really getting a choice_ ’?” Mikasa smirks, looking impressed. “You seem to be getting away with everything these days.”

Annie scoffs to herself. “I just had to figure out how to ask,” she says mildly. “You’ve sent him your RSVP, yeah?” she adds to Krista.

Krista nods, swallowing a mouthful of fried rice.

“No reaction from your dad?”

“I haven’t told him.” Krista sets her takeaway box down and purses her lips. “He’s going to have a fit when he finds out.”

Mikasa frowns at her, chopsticks pausing in mid air. “Who exactly is your dad?”

“Yeah,” adds Annie. She’s been wondering about this for a while. She and Mikasa have dropped in Madam Malkin’s for fittings a couple of times and she’d made a physical effort not to ask because Krista seemed so adamant not to talk about it. Curiosity gets the best of her tonight though, and she sets her takeaway box down too and crosses her arms in front of her chest. “You can’t keep dropping hints and not saying anything about it. Lenz isn’t a pureblood name, so either yours is fake or there’s been some really dodgy stuff going on.”

Krista laughs at the both of them. She picks up her takeaway box again, but Annie notices the way the she concentrates on her rice instead of looking both of them in the eye. “He’s not that important,” she says with a giggle. “I think what’s more important is making sure we’re all prepared for the ball.”

“We are,” insists Mikasa. “And if there’s anything we’ve missed, we can sort that out tonight.”

But Krista shakes her head. “I don’t think we’re as prepared as we think we are,” she says. “It’s Ann’s debut, and her dad’s probably going to make an official announcement about training her up as her head of her house and business. They’ll want a speech - ”

“Check.”

“ - And she’ll have to meet and acknowledge the heads of the other families - ”

“Discussed.”

“ _Shush_.” Krista huffs and gives Mikasa a look. “She’s going to be breaking a lot of traditions, and they will interrogate her about it. All of them. The Leonhardts have had a lot of money for a very long time. Ninety percent of small businesses that exist already only exist because the Leonhardts invested in them and gave them the initial start up loan.”

“We know all this,” says Annie dryly. “So what?”

“ _So_ ,” says Krista. “Where’s she planning to take the business? What’s her first move as Heiress? Who’s she going to trade with? What will she be investing in? Is she intending to introduce more muggle practises? And - shush, this is important - whether or not the more important families do business with her depends a lot on her answers. They’re already wary of her because she’s involved with Armin and because she’s invited all of us - the second she says something they don’t like, they’ll cut their ties. And - I’m not done - I can guarantee that everything that goes down will be in _The Daily Prophet_ the next morning - and you know how bad _The_ _Prophet_ makes people look.”

There’s a pause. Whatever anxiety Annie had thought she’d gotten over is suddenly back in her system, but she forces it away and sits back with a huff. “Okay,” she says slowly. “Fine. We’ve got some ground to cover still. But I think there’s a bigger question here, and it’s how in the _hell_ do you know all this? _Who on earth is your dad_?”

“ _Focus_ , come on.” Krista gives them both hard stare. “They’ll eat you alive if you’re not prepared for this.”

“She’s right, Ann,” says Mikasa quietly. “I think we have some more things to discuss.”

She is, and they do, but Annie scowls at them. “Look. I have some ideas already, okay? I’m not getting out of this without at least some of the other families hating my guts more than they already do - like, I’m pretty sure I lost the Brauns and Hoovers when I hit the boys with a sardine hex in school - but it’s fine. I know who to invest in to make that up.”

“Do you?”

“ _Yes_ ,” snaps Annie. “I’m investing in _you_ for starters, so cut me a little slack, okay?”

There’s a pause. It's long and it's made even more awkward than it already is by being punctuated with the odd sing-acting from _Les Miserables._  Krista pales, and then flushes, and then pales again, and Annie backtracks for a moment to make sure she hadn’t said anything offensive. She shrugs awkwardly and turns back to her takeaway box. “You said you wanted to open a shop,” she says. “I mean, this is all sort of depending on whether or not the robes you’re making us work out and I was gonna give you a proper offer after the ball, because, I mean, if all else fails, at least _The Prophet_ can’t be a dick about my choice of wardrobe.”

Still nothing. Krista’s progressed to opening and closing her mouth wordlessly now, before Mikasa snorts into her noodles and gently prods her in the cheek. “I think you broke her.”

“I’m honestly a little worried that I did,” says Annie. “You know, if you don’t accept the offer, it’s going to make me look like I have no idea what I’m doing so if _The Prophet_ reports on that, it’ll be your fault.”

At last, Krista sucks in a breath. “Yeah,” she manages weakly. “Okay.”

“Yes, you’re taking the offer or yes, you’ll cut me some slack?”

“Both.” Krista swallows and stares at her noodles, looking as if she can’t decide whether to laugh or cry. “I just - _thank you_? Ann. Seriously. I can’t even… I really do owe you one.”

“Will you tell us who your dad is?”

That brings her back at last, and Krista dissolves into a fit of giggles over her box of fried rice. “Don’t push it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) lol i have no work life balance anymore, i mean i wrote and posted this at work, sorry for the delay guys
> 
> 2) BOY am I ready to have more Krista and Ymir in this series!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Come on, you’re prepared, you look stunning, we’ll do all the hexing so you don’t have to - relax, okay? Everything’s going to be fine.”

 

“Hold  _ still _ , Annie, I promise I’m almost done.”

Annie bristles a little, but she does her best not to scowl and keeps her eyes locked on her knees as Krista fixes her mascara. Her fingers are brisk and practised, and though Annie doesn’t really understand why people go to so much trouble, she’s not so stubborn that she can’t admit that she’s curious. As much as having to have a deb ball  _ sucks _ , it’s come with the rare opportunity to explore a side of herself that she’d never really cared for until now.

_ Now _ , she stares at the lace butterflies fluttering gently against her knees and she wonders how she looks. Krista had faced her away from the mirror on purpose - “It’ll be the best surprise if you just wait ‘til I’m done, trust me!”- so all Annie can do for the moment is wait in anticipation.

Krista is already dressed, robes of pale pink chiffon brushing Annie’s skin as she bustles around her. Even in school, she’d always taken more pride in her appearance than most other girls, but Annie thinks that if there’s anyone to envy here tonight, it’s Mikasa.

Mikasa is  _ beautiful.  _ She sits in the armchair in the corner, one knee crossed over the other, examining the finer details of her dress. It’s deep red - the same colour as the scarf she’d always worn at school whenever they didn’t need to be in uniform. The bodice is made of lace flowers and the rose at her hip actually blooms in the candlelight to show off an amber stone fixed in the centre. Her outer robes are made of satin, embroidered with gold roses at the hems, and Krista has pulled her hair back and curled it  _ just  _ enough to turn it into a tousled bob.

Somehow, Krista has turned her friend of seven years into an actual grown woman, and Annie feels like she can only hope that she’ll look as pretty once she’s finished with her.

“Don’t look so nervous, Ann, everything’s going to be fine.” Mikasa grins at her from the armchair, lips painted red to match her dress. “We’ve covered all our bases and the only way anything can go wrong tonight is if Eren sets something on fire.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” giggles Krista. “Remember that time he set your charms essay on fire?”

Annie snorts at that. “Maybe if he does, the stupid ball will end sooner.”

“What, and lose the chance to show off all of Krista’s hard work?” Mikasa laughs and smooths her skirt carefully. “Come on, you’re prepared, you look  _ stunning _ , we’ll do all the hexing so you don’t have to - relax, okay? Everything’s going to be fine.”

“I sure hope so,” Annie mumbles.

“She doesn’t believe us,” says Krista, stepping back with grin. “See for yourself Ann.”

Annie heaves a sigh, and she swivels around in the chair and gets to her feet. She wobbles a little in her heels, but she glances in the mirror and feels her breath leave her lungs.

She’s seen the dress robes on a mannequin a couple of times but this is different. Krista calls it asymmetrical - floor-length around the back tapering to just below her knees around the front. The hem is lined with actual fluttering butterflies accented with silver, and her robes are graceful and open sleeved. The sky blue material brings out her eyes, and her bun is looser than usual, bangs curled and free to frame her face.

“What do you think?” asks Krista.

Annie can’t help but grin at her reflection. “I mean. Is it - is it conceited to say I look  _ great _ ?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Krista chuckles at her. “We’ll see you on the floor, hey? I think your dad said he wanted to have a quick chat before the ball starts.”

“Sure,” says Annie, twirling a little and admiring the way the butterflies flit about on the material. “Guys,” she adds, as Mikasa and Krista take their leave. “Thanks. For everything.”

Mikasa pats her shoulder cheekily. “Thank us after the ball. Good luck!”

  
  


Her father is waiting for her in the hall. 

Annie can almost feel the way he studies her dress robes, but his eyes are soft - she almost thinks that this is the first time he’s looked at her so fondly, and she’s not sure if it makes her feel more or less nervous. 

“Hi dad,” she mumbles shyly.

He smiles at her and places a hand on her shoulder. “You look beautiful, Annie,” he says. His voice is gentle - proud, even - and he coughs and holds a box out to her. “I know how hard you’ve been trying to avoid tradition for this ball, but I do hope you’ll at least wear this. I gave it to your mother at her deb ball - she would have wanted you to wear it at yours.” He opens the box, and Annie almost forgets how to breathe.

It’s a necklace - a polished glassy star on a fine silver chain - simple but elegant - like her. He’d been a pretty slack father for most of her time at school, and he’d presented her with gifts to ‘make up for it’ but this is one of the few times that she actually appreciates it. She takes the chain from the box with careful fingers and smiles.

“Will you help me put it on?”

“Of course,” he says, stepping behind her to do the clasp. “Listen. Annie.” He looks nervous too. He takes a breath. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you avoid this but, whatever happens tonight - whatever decisions you make, and whoever you do business with - I want you to know that I’m proud of you. You know who you are, and you’ve never once changed your mind about something you know is right just because someone told you to. You’re going to do wonderfully tonight.”

It’s probably one of the few genuine moments she’s had with her dad ever, and she almost doesn’t know how to react. Part of her feels like she wants to cry, but she blinks back whatever fluid is collecting in the corners of her eyes so she doesn’t ruin Krista’s handiwork, and grips his hand instead.

“Thanks dad,” she says, offering him a small smile. “That means a lot.”

He nods, smiling back. “Well, then. Shall we?”

“Yeah.” Annie nods, swallowing the anxiety building in her throat. “It’s showtime.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) LOL I miscalculated. Sort of. I wanted Annie to have a moment with her dad before the ball but the ball chapter itself is gonna be a big long one broken up into various parts and it just made more sense to do an extra chapter. Now a story in six-ish parts, rather than five.
> 
> 2) I have actual designs for Mikasa's, Annie's, and Krista's dresses in my sketchbook. If there is enough interest, I'll put them up somewhere and link you guys to them.
> 
> 3) #finishwhatyoustartedjelly


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Let's get under way, shall we?"

_6.02 pm_

“Uncle! Madame Ral! We’re so glad you made it!”

Petra laughs, accepting the hug from Levi’s niece with a grin. “Just Petra now, Mikasa, you’re not students anymore. I see no reason you still have to call me that. You look lovely, by the way!”

“Ah, thank you.” Mikasa chuckles and adjust the way her robes hang off her shoulders. “Krista made them. She made Annie’s too. Wait ‘til you see her.”

“I’m surprised she agreed to this at all,” says Levi mildly. “She never seemed like the type to enjoy all this pomp and circumstance.”

Mikasa snorts. “She doesn’t. She hated the idea at first but it’s supposed to be tradition and she couldn’t get out of it.”

“That’s why we’re here, obviously,” says Eren, swilling his drink around. “Do you think she’ll hex anyone tonight?”

“I hope not,” says Mikasa, frowning at him. “We’re supposed to be doing that _for_ her, remember? In any case, she holds a fair bit of power here so I would _hope_ that the worst case scenario is someone calling Armin the M word - although, given who’s _here_ , we could probably make a drinking game out of it.”

She means it as a joke, Petra’s sure, but Levi and Mikasa catch each other’s eye and Petra spots the familiar spark of competition in Levi and the mischief in Mikasa and Eren’s grins. She catches on before any of them even open their mouths. “You will _not_ ,” she hisses. “Levi, don’t you encourage this. Who’s going to hex people on behalf of Annie if you’re all drunk off your faces?”

“Come off it, Petra, no one’s going to get _that_ drunk,” says Levi mildly. He hides a smirk behind the lip of his goblet.  “Some of us can actually _hold_ our alcohol, you know. Besides, it’ll certainly make the evening more interesting.”

“This is an awful idea,” Petra mutters. “I won’t be looking after you in the morning if you’re hungover, I mean it.”

“No, she’s right,” agrees Mikasa. Petra eyes her suspiciously, but she straightens resolutely and peers at the crowd. “It wouldn’t be fair to Annie. We promised we’d help keep things under control tonight, remember?”

Eren shrugs. “I suppose,” he says. “She wouldn’t hold it against us, though. If anything, she’d be disappointed we didn’t let her in on the game.”

“You know very well why you can’t do that,” says Petra sternly. “No drinking games tonight, all right?”

“Spoilsport,” says Levi, but not without a mischievous smirk at his niece and her boyfriend.

Petra sighs.

  
  


_6.15 pm_

In all of his seven years at Hogwarts, Armin had only had a handful of conversations with Ymir Perchta mostly because they don’t have very much in common. They’ve never had a problem with each other though - she was one of the few Slytherins who didn’t think it was funny to make fun of muggle born kids, and she’d kept to herself mostly - except for the times when her lack of tact had gotten her into detention.

Her girlfriend, Krista, is the complete opposite. Krista had gotten along with _everyone_ and was arguably the sweetest person in the entire school. They’re an odd pair, but they’re happy, and, while the silence is kind of awkward, Armin is pleased that Annie could get them both on the guest list.

“You clean up good, Arlert,” says Ymir, smirking at him.

“Uh - thanks.” Armin chuckles a little nervously. “So do you - although, I notice you’re not in dress robes.”

“Those stuffy things?” Ymir snorts gestures proudly at her muggle suit. “Yeah. They don’t look great. Wizarding formal wear is so dumb looking. Krista’s got the right idea - maybe once she gets her shop going, everyone else can grow out of those stupid robe things.”

“Her shop?”

“Didn’t your girlfriend tell you?” Ymir cocks her head at him curiously. “She’s giving Krista a start up loan to open a shop. Thinks that it’s a good start her reign.”

“That _is_ a good start,” says Armin. Something like pride bubbles in his chest. No, Annie hadn’t told him, but he figures that it was supposed to be a surprise - for everyone. He raises an eyebrow at Ymir, though. “You’re very encouraging about all this. Are you _sure_ you’re a Slytherin?”

Ymir snorts. “Not all Slytherins are bigots, Arlert. Don’t be racist.”

  
  


_6.16 pm_

“I can’t believe who made the guest list.” Reiner wrinkles his nose and sips at his mulled wine.

Beside him, Bertholdt frowns. “I’m not sure we should be so critical,” he says carefully, but he wrinkles his nose a little too. “This is Annie’s ball and - well - we have some things to talk about and I think it would be best not to piss her off tonight.”

“We have to talk to _her_ , not her mudblood friends.”

The glass in his hand shatters.

Bertholdt lets out a startled yelp, and Reiner stares at his hand, and then at the mess on the ballroom floor before his has the sense to pull his wand from his dress robe pockets. He waves it deftly, and the wine glass reassembles itself and flies back into his hand just as Jaeger wanders past.

“Language,” he says mildly. He takes a drink, tucks his own wand back into his pocket, and eyes them both over the top of his wine glass before he saunters back into the crowd.

Reiner scowls, and his fingers tighten around the wine glass. “I’m not so sure I want to have that talk.”

  
  


_6.30 pm_

The Leonhardt Estate is unreasonably large, in Annie’s opinion. It’s some old Victorian-style building her father had inherited from his father, who’d inherited it from his father before him, who’d inherited it from his mother before him - and so on and so forth. The fact that it has a _ballroom_ makes her wrinkle her nose - her family has never had enough people in it at the same time to warrant so much space.

She wonders if her father gets lonely here while she’s away. The guilt hits her a like a punch in the face, and she makes a note in her head to visit more often.

The portraits of her ancestors watch her curiously. Annie thinks she knows who most of them are, although as a child, she’d made an effort to avoid this hall. They talk very loudly to each other, and mostly they talk about how she’s ‘too short’ or ‘too soft’ or that she dresses ‘too silly’ to properly head the family, but tonight they keep their mouths shut as Annie follows her father through the hall.

He pauses at the double doors at the end. “I’ll announce you, shall I?” he says, straightening his coat.

Annie nods, feeling as if the butterflies at the hems of her dress have somehow migrated into her stomach.

Mr. Leonhardt clears his throat. The doors open for him, and suddenly, she’s alone, feeling tightness in her lungs and unsteady in her heels.

“You look nice, I suppose,” says a portrait - her Great Uncle Thierry, she thinks. She remembers his droopy jowls and the way he wanders through the rest of the paintings in the house with his lion-headed cane. “Your robes are funny shaped. Is that - how they say - in, right now?”

Annie snorts. “I don’t know,” she says honestly. “A friend made it. I asked her to make sure I wouldn’t trip over myself. I think she’s done rather well.”

Great Uncle Thierry nods sagely. “You’ll be very interesting,” he says. “I don’t know that I’ll agree with all your decisions.”

“I don’t entirely agree with all yours,” says Annie shortly.

“It’s to be expected.” Great Uncle Thierry yawns and hobbles into the armchair in the corner of the frame. “It doesn’t really matter what I think. There’s only one thing that matters and it’s that you keep the family relevant. I think you’ll do very well at that.”

It sounds both like a compliment and a criticism - but Annie takes what she can get and nods. “Thank you, I suppose,” she says quietly.

The double doors open.

“Good luck,” says Great Uncle Thierry.

Annie nods and steps into the light.

  
  


_6.31 pm_

There’s a flurry of sound when Annie appears on the balcony.

From the corner of her eye, Mikasa spots Armin’s face split into the biggest grin she’s ever seen on his face, but the rest of the crowd is harder to read. The Braun and Hoover boys look sulky; Kirchstein stares appreciatively, and his date - Hitch Dreyse - Mikasa remembers her from school - scowls and elbows him in the ribs; the photographer from _Witch Weekly_ shoves his way past Krista and Ymir to take photos as Annie descends; but the Minister of Magic clears his throat and a hush falls over the crowd.

“Miss Leonhardt,” he says, extending a hand to her as she gets to the bottom of the stairs.

Annie raises an eyebrow at him, but she takes it anyway. “Minister Reiss.”

Minister Reiss offers her an unfriendly smile. “What a pleasure it is to finally see you as a fully fledged member of pureblood wizarding society. Your… dress... is lovely.”

“Thank you,” says Annie coldly. “A friend of mine made it.”

Minister Reiss narrows his eyes at her. “Is that friend of yours here tonight?”

“Yes.” Annie purses her lips, searching for Krista in the crowd. She frowns, and Mikasa cranes her neck to look for her too to find that she isn’t there and that Ymir is standing alone next to Armin. “Somewhere. That aside, I believe there’s business to discuss tonight.”

Minister Reiss coughs and straightens his robes. “Yes,” he says, tearing his eyes away from the crowd. “I believe there is.”

“Well, then.” Annie nods and snatches her hand back. “Let’s get under way, shall we? Enjoy the ball, Minister.”

  


  
_6.35 pm_

“She’s wearing a _muggle_ gown,” Dreyse sneers . “What does she think she’s trying to pull?”

(Eren glances at his wine glass.

“I don’t think that should count,” mutters Levi. He catches Eren’s eye and shrugs.

They drink anyway).

  
  


_6.40 pm_

“Miss Leonhardt! A word for _Witch Weekly_?”

Annie heaves a long and exaggerated sigh, and she snatches at a glass of wine from a waiter as he wanders past and takes a gulp before she turns and fixes a fake professional smile onto her lips. “Of course,” she says, “although I’ve barely had the chance to speak to anyone yet so I don’t know what we could possibly have to discuss already.”

The woman from _Witch Weekly_ snorts at her. She unpockets an emerald green quill and lets it hover into the air beside her with a scroll of parchment.

Annie recognizes it immediately and she shakes her head. “If you don’t mind,” she says coolly. “I’d feel more comfortable doing interviews for you with _out_ a Quick Quotes Quill.”

“It won’t be any trouble,” says the woman briskly. “Pretend it’s not there.”

“I’d really rather not have this interview if you’re not going to take notes of what I say directly.”

The woman clicks her tongue. “Just ignore it, hun.”

“All righty then,” says Annie, and she turns on her heel and squeezes her way back into the crowd.

  
  


_7.00 pm_

“There are a few new faces, I notice,” says Mr. Hoover.

“And a number of mudblood ones,” says Mr. Kirchstein. “Edgar’s gone soft. He’s letting his daughter get away with whatever she wants these days.”

Mr. Hoover nods. “I imagine she’ll be rather difficult to trade with.”

“Indeed,” says Mr. Kirchstein. “Although in all honesty, I doubt I’ll have very much to trade with a blood traitor anyway.”

(“Can I _please_ jinx their wine?” grumbles Eren.

Mikasa shakes her head. “They’re not causing any trouble. They’re just being rude. Drink.”

They both do).

  
  


_7.08 pm_

“Miss Leonhardt! Can I get an interview for the _Wonky Wizard?_ ”

“Is that a Quick Quotes Quill?”

“Why, yes -”

“Then no.”

  
  


_7.12 pm_

It’s been about an hour since Krista went missing, and now, genuinely concerned, Ymir squeezes her way through the crowd at the bottom of the stairs and climbs the first three in an attempt to spot her girlfriend within the throng.

She doesn’t. So instead she aims for one of the few other familiar faces.

“Oi, Ackerman!”

The ballroom hushes a little to look at her, but Mikasa glances at her from the other side of the hall and Ymir waves her hands dismissively at the crowd. “Not you,” she snaps at the people still looking. She jumps from the last three steps and meets Mikasa half way.

“Did you see where Krista disappeared to?”

Mikasa blinks at her. “Has she not been with you all night?”

Ymir shakes her head. “She went missing when Annie made her debut. You haven’t seen her at all?”

“No?” Mikasa cranes her neck at the mob people milling around them and frowns. “You don’t think something’s wrong, do you?”

“I think this has something to do with her dad,” says Ymir bluntly.

“Do _you_ know who he is?”

Ymir snorts at that. “Nope. Avoids the question like the plague. Whoever he is, I don’t think he’s happy that she’s here.”

Mikasa purses her lips. “I’ll help you find her. I’ll put the boys on alert too.”

  


_  
7.30 pm_

“Miss Leonhardt. How do you do?”

Reporter number three at least sounds like a professional, but still, Annie heaves a sigh and fixes the same practised smile onto her face before she turns to greet them back. That’s what she means to do anyway, but the words that come out of her mouth are not for greeting. “If you pull another Quick Quotes Quill out, I _swear_ to God -”

“Annie!”

Madame Ral appears at her side before she can get another word out, and she forgets what she’s saying temporarily in favour of greeting her old school nurse. “Madame Ral! You made it!”

“I did,” says Madam Ral. “And it’s just Petra now. I had the same conversation with Mikasa just before. I see you’ve met Ilse!”

“Ilse?”

The reporter smiles. “That would be me,” she says. “I’m an old friend of Petra and Levi’s. I write for the business section in _The Daily Prophet._ ”

“Oh,” says Annie. “Oh! God, I’m so sorry - ”

Ilse chuckles. “Don’t apologise. Levi gave me a heads up on the - uh - situation. Do you have time to have a quick chat? I promise I don’t even own a Quick Quotes Quill.”

“Ilse’s very good,” says Petra. “Most of what she covers is trade and business in our world, so I can promise you she won’t bother you with any silly questions and she won’t butcher what you say.”

Ilse nods. “I’m happy to let Petra tag along if you’ll feel more comfortable,” she adds. “Or I can wait ‘til later - whichever you prefer.”

Annie blinks, mostly because Ilse is the only reporter so far who has bothered to ask her about her own preferences. “Uh - ” she falters. “Now’s fine, I guess,” she says. “And… I think I’ll be okay. Thank you - er - Petra.”

Petra grins at them both. “I’ll leave you to it,” she says, taking her leave.

Annie waves after her before she turns back to Ilse. “Is there - er - anything in particular you’d like to know.”

“There’s no need to be so formal,” she chuckles. “We’re just chatting. I have - er - ” She pulls what looks like a muggle smartphone out her pocket and gestures to it. “Muggles use them for all sorts of things, including recording interviews. Would it be all right if I recorded ours? It’ll be a bit more accurate than one of those Quills.”

Annie nods. “Sure. Um. I know what they are. Armin’s got one.”

“Oh?” Ilse looks pleasantly surprised, and she hits the flashing _Record_ button and pockets it again with a smile. “Armin is?”

“My - er - my boyfriend,” says Annie.

“Ah, yes.” Ilse nods and motions for them to take a seat at the nearest table. “I’ve heard about him. Muggle born boy. Head Boy during your time at Hogwarts, yes? Is it true there was some trouble with the fact that he’s muggle born?”

Annie shrugs at her as they take a seat. “There still is. He’s had more of it than me, really, he just handles it better. But yes, mostly from… other kids at Hogwarts who weren’t so… open minded.”

“I know the type,” chuckles Ilse. “Speaking of open minded, your robes are very interesting.”

“Yes, a friend made them.” Annie glances fondly at the butterflies fluttering at her knees. “I know there are supposed to be traditional robes that go with this whole deb ball thing, but, like many things about this deb ball thing, they were a little outdated. I was aiming for a balance of styles. The friend who made them is here somewhere, she’s really the one you should interview. She’ll own an entirely new business by the end of the night.”

Ilse raises an eyebrow at her. “That’s an interesting thing to invest in.”

“It’s proof that balance works,” says Annie. “Everyone I’ve run into so far sneered about how it’s a muggle dress but no one’s said I look like shit. Sorry. Please don’t put that in the article.”

“Noted,” laughs Ilse. “Are you going to try and introduce more muggle practises and technologies, then?”

“I think you know as well as I do that they have some things that are a bit more useful than certain magic things.” Annie nods at the flashing in Ilse’s pocket and jerks her head at the other reporters and their Quick Quotes Quills.

“Touche,” says Ilse. “Can I ask what your goals are for your family’s business?”

Annie purses her lips thoughtfully. “They’re no different from what my father’s are. Mine are just a little more diverse. There’s no reason muggle born or half blood entrepreneurs shouldn’t get their start up loans for their own businesses from us. Hell, if we stuck to giving loans to pure blood businesses or wizards endorsed by only pure blood businesses, we’d have no one left to trade with.”

“Will you be trading internationally?”

“I hadn’t thought about it,” admits Annie. “Still, I don’t see why not. We don’t really have a lot to do with MACUSA except for the rare meeting, and even then, that’s entirely the Minister’s business. Trade should flow better between us, I think. Muggles have had that going on for years now - if we don’t open up, we’ll fall behind.”

Ilse nods and checks the time on her muggle smartphone. “Well, I don’t really have any more questions. I’ll send you a copy of the article before I let it get printed. Is there anything else you’d like to add?”

Annie pauses to think, but in the end, she shakes her head. “Not really. Is that it?”

“Yep,” says Ilse. “Quick and painless, right? It’s been a genuine pleasure talking to you, Miss Leonhardt. I hope to chat to you again soon.”

“Absolutely,” says Annie, and she means it. “I hope you’re not working all night. I imagine Petra will want to catch up as well.”

“Well, if you don’t mind, I’d love to have a quick drink.”

“Help yourself,” says Annie. “And thank you - for being easy to talk to and for actually listening.”

Ilse chuckles, bowing a little. “My pleasure.”

  
  


_8.00 pm_

Reiner is fidgeting with his father’s ring again, and it makes Bertholdt’s own anxiety feel worse than it already is. Annie has been busy for most of the night - her own friends have had difficulty talking to her, and he figures that, after the way they treated her in school, they’re not exactly high on her list of priorities.

“There’s no need to talk to her _tonight_ ,” grumbles Reiner.

“We’re not going to get another chance to,” says Bertholdt. “If we can’t get her to back us tonight, we won’t get her to back us at all.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing.”

“ _Enough_ , Reiner.” Bertholdt sucks in a breath and stares at his shoes. “I’m done hiding from this.”

“‘ _Hiding_ ’ is the only reason we haven’t already been excommunicated from our own families,” hisses Reiner. He glances wearily at his parents and the way they look like they’re judging everyone in sight. “This is will be the end of us.”

“Not if we can get her to back us first.”

“After all the shit we gave her in school?” Reiner snorts mirthlessly into his mulled wine. “What makes you think she’ll even want to help?”

Bertholdt takes another breath. “Because she’s better than us. And because she knows what it’s like to be treated like a black sheep.”

  
  


_8.04 pm_

Armin spots her leaning on the railing of the outdoor balcony just after eight. It’s the first time he’s seen her alone all night and she looks relieved. He almost doesn’t want to bother her, but the fact that he hasn’t been able to dance with his own girlfriend at her own ball is preposterous to him, and he takes two glasses of water from the nearest waiter and brings them to her before anyone else can interrupt her again.

“How’re you holding up?”

Annie sighs, and her shoulders sag the instant she feels his presence beside her. “It’s been an hour and a half and I’m already exhausted,” she mutters, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Can we go home?”

“Not yet, I’m afraid,” chuckles Armin, pressing a glass of water into her hand. “I haven’t even had the chance to ask you to dance yet. Would you like to?”

Annie chuckles into the sleeve of his robes. “That’s the nicest thing I’ve heard all night.” She takes his hand. “Can we stay out here, though? It’s getting really stuffy in there.”

“Sure thing,” says Armin, pulling her to his chest. “You look beautiful, by the way. I mean, you always look beautiful, but you look especially beautiful tonight.”

“That’s sweet of you to say,” laughs Annie, pressing her cheek to his chest. “You’re not so bad yourself. How’s everyone else doing?”

Armin grins into her hair. “They’re having fun. Do you know Mikasa, Eren, and Professor Ackerman are playing a drinking game?”

“ _What?_ ”

“Yeah.” Armin snorts. “Every time someone says something insulting, they drink.”

“And they _didn’t invite me?_ ” Annie straightens briefly looking scandalised. “How _dare_ they. It’s _my_ ball.”

Armin laughs. “I don’t think that’s the greatest idea for _you_ to get sloshed, Ann.”

“No, I suppose not.” She sighs. “I’m glad they’re enjoying themselves at least. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to hang out more.”

“That’s not your fault,” says Armin gently. “You’re doing well. I’m really proud of you.”

“What, for not hexing anyone?”

“For stepping up.” He twirls her under his arm slowly and kisses her forehead as she comes around. “I know you didn’t want any of this, but you’re taking it gracefully, and professionally, and I just know that you’re going to bring one heck of a storm and you’re going to blow us all away. You’re amazing, Ann, and I wish I knew how to tell you how much.”

It’s not as if he’s never said flowery things before, but for a moment, it looks as if Annie forgets how to breathe. Armin grins at her, and he kisses her nose before the breath hitched in her throat goes in and she laughs.

“You’re too nice,” she whispers, hiding her face in his dress robes.

“I’m honest,” says Armin. “And I love you.”

“I know.” She leans on to her toes to kiss his lips. “I love you too.”

  
  


_8.15 pm_

“‘Evening, Edgar,” says Mr. Braun shortly. He gestures vaguely at Annie and Armin on the balcony. “That’s the mudblood boy you’re letting your daughter associate with, is it?”

Mr. Leonhardt bristles a little. “Hello to you too, Oskar. His name is Armin, and I’ll not have you calling him that, at least not in my presence.”

Mr. Braun scoffs. “How soft you’ve grown. If Annie were my daughter, I would have disowned her the moment she was sorted wrong.”

“As it is,” says Mr. Leonhardt, “she is not your daughter, and you would do well to watch your tongue.”

“Are you threatening me, Edgar?”

Mr. Leonhardt laughs. “Certainly not. I’m warning you. She has some very loyal friends who won’t hesitate for a second to come to her aid should she need it.” He snorts and finishes his drink. “Have a good night, Oskar.”

(Two tables away, Eren, Mikasa, and Levi raise their glasses Edgar Leonhardt.

“ _Holy shit_.”

“Props to Annie’s dad, right?”

“Applause in a moment. Drink first.”).

  
  


_8.33 pm_

“You’re being selfish, Bertholdt. Have you considered that maybe _I’m_ not as ready for this as you are?”

The voice is faint, but Annie recognizes it almost immediately as Reiner Braun’s. She tugs Armin behind the nearest pillar and shushes him as the voices grow nearer.

“ _Me? Selfish?_ You’re _never_ going to be ready, and frankly, what it looks like is that you’re afraid that they’ll start treating you the way we treated Annie!”

“ _Don’t do this_ , Bertl, you’ll be throwing away your birthright - ”

“No, you’re worried I’m throwing away _yours_ , which is _rich_ because you’re the one who started this. I’m going to talk to Annie tonight, and if you’re not there… consider us done.”

“Bertl!”

“I need some air.”

The voices fade, and even in the dim light, Annie watches a frown form on Armin’s features that mirror hers. Bertholdt Hoover and Reiner Braun have been thick as thieves since before they even started at Hogwarts and this rather _loud_ conversation is… uncharacteristic, to say the least.

Annie peers around the corner to make sure neither of the boys are still around before she tugs Armin away from the balcony and back inside.

Armin squeezes her hand. “Do you have any idea what that was about?”

“Nope,” she mutters. “But I think we’ll find out before the end of the night.”

  
  


_8.48 pm_

It’s been two hours since Annie made her official debut and Krista is _still_ nowhere to be seen. When Ymir comes to ask her if she’s had any luck for the fourth time, Mikasa abandons the drinking game all together and tasks Eren and her uncle to keep things under control while she helps Ymir with her search.

They run into Annie after ten minutes of asking around.

“Have you tried the gardens?” she asks. “They’re pretty extensive. I’ll come with you.”

“No,” says Mikasa, “it’s your ball.”

“Exactly. It’s my party, I’ll do what I want.”

“ _Annie._ ” Mikasa scowls at her. “Come on. What will everyone else think if you suddenly go missing?”

Annie huffs, but she glances around the ballroom and spots her father chatting quietly with the Minister only a little way away. “Dad!” she calls, waving him over.

Mr. Leonhardt blinks, but he edges his way between chatting groups and dancing couples towards them with the Minister in tow. “What’s the matter?”

“Our friend’s gone missing,” Annie tells him.

“Missing?” asks Minister Reiss. His eyes narrow. “Is this the friend who made your robes?” he adds slowly.

“That would be her,” says Annie, probably a bit colder than she intends. “Her dad’s here and she said something about him not being pleased about her being here as well. Honestly, he sounds like a piece of shit. I’m going to help the girls look for her. If anyone asks, I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

Mr. Leonhardt clucks his tongue, but he nods. “Of course. Do watch your language, though, Annie, you do realize the Minister is standing _right here._ Show a little finesse.”

“She’s been doing that all night, sir,” says Ymir sharply. “Time for her to help her friends out instead. Excuse us, please, we have to go.” She seizes Mikasa and Annie’s wrists before anyone else can object and very nearly drags them all the way out to the nearest garden exit.

It’s quiet out here - everyone else seems far more interested in gossip and music inside than the meandering garden paths. They find Krista sitting on the stone fountain with her heels dangling from one hand and her toes skimming the water.

“ _There_ you are!” snaps Ymir. “Geez, what’s the point of dressing up all nice and going to a ball if you’re going to spend most of it missing?”

Krista chuckles sadly. “Sorry,” she says. “I think, all together, I shouldn’t have come.”

Mikasa frowns at her. “How could you not come? You were so excited before. Is this about your dad?”

“No… well. Yeah. Okay, it is. I just don’t want to deal with him… ever.”

“You can’t _not_ deal with him,” says Ymir. “Who the hell is he, anyway? I think it’s about time you told all of us.”

Krista heaves a sigh, and she swings her legs over the fountain wall to face them before she sucks in a breath and says, “Minister Reiss.”

There’s a pause.

And then Annie lets out a laugh. “That’s a joke, right?”

Krista says nothing.

“Oh, God, Krista, tell me that’s a joke.”

Krista sighs again. “My name’s not Krista. It’s Historia. My dad is the Minister of Magic. My mum works in a brothel in London.”

Mikasa feels her jaw drop open.

Ymir slumps into the nearest garden bench.

Annie opens and closes her mouth twice before she clamps her jaw shut and squeezes her eyes shut. “ _Minister Reiss?”_ she practically shrieks. “ _Are you fucking serious?!”_

Krista frowns at her. “Hush, Ann, you’re not even supposed to know -”

“ _You told us he wasn’t important!”_

“Seriously, Ann, shush - ”

“ _I called him a piece of shit to his face!”_

Despite herself, Ymir starts laughing at that. “Way to go, Ann! I mean. You probably think I’m joking but _way to go, Ann!_ ”

“That’s not a good thing, Ymir!” Annie slumps into the seat next to her and covers her face with her hands. “Oh God, my dad’s gonna kill me.”

“Wait.” Mikasa holds up her hands. “No - wait - I mean, first - what the _actual fuck_ , Krista - why on earth are you going by a name that isn’t yours?”

Krista frowns at her. “Well, I mean, I’m not saying it was the best course of action, but I am the product of an affair between my pure blood Minister father and a muggle sex worker so… there’s that.”

“You’re so not allowed to be sassy right now,” snaps Mikasa. “Ann - don’t freak out. I mean, no one else knows, right?”

“Just you guys and my dad,” confirms Krista.

“Look, I haven’t even started my internship at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement yet but I don’t need to be on the Wizengamot to know that something here is illegal.” Mikasa crosses her arms in front of her chest and paces a little. “I mean, if he admits that he’s insulted that Annie called him a piece of shit, he kind of also admits to this scandal so I think, for now, Ann can’t get into trouble.”

“Still.” Ymir massages her temples. “Why would you not tell us? Why would you not tell _me?_ ”

“He told me not to,” mumbles Krista. “He - er - he thought he could get away with ignoring me and it would be fine but… surprise! I’m a witch. He made me a deal when I got my letter. Free ride through Hogwarts for my silence. There was no way else for me to go, so… I took it.” She coughs and fiddles with the open sleeves of her dress robes. “I’m happy being Krista Lenz. Historia Reiss is related to _that_ asshole and if she comes out, she’ll have to have to deal with the media and all the other crap that goes with it. Krista Lenz can open her shop, and live with her girlfriend, and not have to deal with any of that, you know?”

A hush falls over them. Mikasa catches the understanding on Annie’s features, and the hint of pride in the grin forming on Ymir’s lips.

“First of all,” says Ymir, “I’m super proud of you for calling your dad an asshole. Because he is. But. You can’t live like this forever.”

“I think you’ll find I can.”

“No,” says Mikasa. “No, Ymir’s right. You can’t let him get away with this. He’s not paying for your education anymore, there’s nothing to keep you quiet.”

Krista shakes her head at them and slips her heels back onto her feet. “I just want to open my shop and be with Ymir. I don’t need anything else.”

“But -”

“No.” Krista’s voice is firm. Mikasa thinks this is the most stubborn she’s ever seen her. She slips off the fountain ledge and straightens her dress. “Maybe one day. Not today.”

  
  


_9.04 pm_

“You look tired, Mr. Leonhardt.” He does - Armin had spotted the exhaustion in his eyes half the ballroom away, and he offers him a small smile as he sidles up to him along with another drink. “Annie’s doing very well tonight. I think you should be proud.”

Mr. Leonhardt nods, and the corners of his lips quirk upwards in what Armin thinks is supposed to be a smile. “Thank you,” he mutters, taking a very large gulp. “No one’s given you too much trouble tonight, I trust.”

Armin shrugs. “No more than usual, given the circumstances.”

Mr. Leonhardt snorts, eyeing the heads of the other families as they mutter to each other by the punch bowl. “I hope you know what you’re getting into, Armin,” he says quietly. “These families won’t take kindly to you.”

“Eh.” Armin chuckles into his wine. “The opinions of the other families don’t really matter to me. All that does is that Annie’s happy.”

Mr. Leonhardt shoots him a sidelong glance, and Armin shrugs again and helps himself to a canape as a waiter walks past.

“I wouldn’t worry about me, sir,” he adds. “I’d worry about the people who get in Annie’s way.”

“You’re very certain about your position in all this.”

“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”

Mr. Leonhardt hums thoughtfully. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, and Armin figures that the conversation has ended until Mr. Leonhardt clears his throat and turns to study him carefully over the top of his glass. “Do you intend to marry her one day?” he asks.

Armin blinks at him. “I do,” he admits. “Not in the immediate future - when we’re a little older and a bit more stable financially, I think. But that is my general intent, yes.”

Mr. Leonhardt nods like he hadn’t expected anything different. He claps Armin’s shoulder twice and raises his glass to him. “Good,” he says. “To you and Annie.”

Armin stares for a moment, but in the end, he laughs and clinks his glass against his future father-in-law’s.

 

  
  
_9.15 pm_

Minister Reiss is waiting for them when they re-enter the ballroom, and maybe it’s just the chill of the night, but the air suddenly feels much colder and much stiffer as he clears his throat and blocks their path.

“There you are,” he says. His eyes are cold and calculating, and they settle on Krista with an almost cruel intent. “People have been wondering.”

“I told you where we were, Minister,” says Annie. Her own gaze is just as cold, and she squares up to him as Ymir steps protectively in front of her girlfriend. “If you please, we’d love to come back inside.”

Minister Reiss doesn’t move. “Certainly. But I’d like a word with your friend, if that’s all right.”

“We can have a word together inside,” says Mikasa sharply. “It’s rather cold out here is all.”

Minister Reiss narrows his eyes at them. “I’d like a word with her in private.”

Annie can’t help it. “Is she getting her own deb ball, Minister?”

Minister Reiss tears his eyes away from his daughter to stare at Annie, and Annie glares right back. Her heart pounds in her chest, fingers curling into fists at her sides. The tension in the air is tangible, but it’s Ymir who breaks the silence.

“I think she rather deserves one,” she says. “She’ll be the owner of her own business by the end of the night. I think her father should be proud.”

Minister Reiss clenches his jaw, and he studies each of them before, at last, he steps aside to let them through. “Tread carefully, Miss Leonhardt,” he mutters. “Your name won’t keep you out of trouble if you step on too many toes.”

“Names are a funny thing, Minister,” says Annie coldly. “As you would know.”

  
  


_9.17 pm_

“Did you find Kirsta?”

“Yep.”

“Is… everything okay?”

“ _Ha_.” Mikasa snorts, whisking another glass of wine from the nearest waiter and downing the whole thing in one go.

  
  


_9.20 pm_

“Armin.”

The voice is Reiner’s, and Armin almost doesn’t recognise it because Reiner has never referred to him by name. He blinks, a little taken aback, and turns to face him. Behind him, Eren and Mikasa raise their eyebrows. “Reiner,” he greets. “Can I help you?”

Reiner clears his throat awkwardly and shuffles on the spot. “I need to talk to Annie.”

Armin pauses. “Well… I’m not her,” he says dumbly.

“Clearly,” snaps Reiner, but he swallows, takes a breath, and starts again. “Where is she?”

“How should I know?” says Armin. “I’m her boyfriend, not her keeper.”

Reiner almost looks as if he’s using physical effort to be polite. “It’s urgent. Do you know where I can find her?”

“You could wait your turn,” offers Mikasa. “Isn’t she supposed to meet the sons of all the other families tonight?”

“It can’t wait,” grumbles Reiner. “Can you tell me where she is? _Please_?”

Armin purses his lips, but, after a moment, he takes a drink and jabs a finger at Annie chatting quietly with Professor Ackerman and Madame Ral. “She’s taking a break from all the press, I think,” he says.

“Thank you,” mutters Reiner, and he finishes his drink and turns away.

The three stare after him.

Eren coughs. “Are we… not drinking?”

Mikasa makes a face and shrugs. “Apparently not.”

  
  


_9.21 pm_

“I’m to understand that you’ve been playing a drinking game with Mikasa and Eren this whole time, am I?” Petra looks (rightfully) indignant, and perhaps it’s just all the alcohol, but Levi’s face suddenly feels very hot. “Levi, you’re a _teacher_ , you’re supposed to be setting an example!”

“I’m not a teacher tonight,” Levi grumbles into his glass. “And I’m not their’s anymore _._ ”

Petra makes a face at him. “I’m so sorry, Annie, I should have stopped this -”

Annie snorts. “Don’t apologise,” she says. “Honestly, I’m more offended they didn’t ask me to play with them. I - ”

“ _Annie._ ”

Annie pauses, and she turns slowly to find Reiner Braun towering over her with an odd look of panic in his eyes. She blinks and takes a step back. “Yes?”

Braun takes a breath. “Annie, I - er - ”

“I believe proper decorum during an occasion such as this dictates that you call her ‘Miss Leonhardt’,” interrupts Levi mildly. Besides that one time he’d encouraged her to hit him with a sardine hex, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Braun look so anxious in Annie’s presence. It’s an amusing change.

“Er - ” Braun flushes and glances at his shoes. “Miss Leonhardt,” he corrects himself. “Can I have a word? Please,” he adds hastily.

Annie presses her lips together and studies him with wary eyes. “I’m a little busy at the moment,” she says shortly. “Do excuse us, we’d like to continue our conversation.”

“ _Annie_ , just - ”

“‘ _Miss Leonhardt,_ ’” corrects Levi. He puts on his best stern-face and eyes Braun over the top of Annie’s head. “And as it is Miss Leonhardt’s ball, I think it prudent that we do as she asks.”

There’s a pause, but in the end, Braun scowls at the three of them and sulks back into the crowded recesses of the ballroom.

Levi smirks. “Does that make up for your lack of invite?”

“ _No_ ,” snaps Annie, although the the playfulness is obvious in her eyes. “You’ll have to try harder than that, Professor.”

  
  


_9.23 pm_

“You shouldn’t have said that to my dad,” mumbles Krista.

They’re out on the balcony. Krista had insisted - ‘it’s so stuffy in there’, she’d said - but honestly, Ymir thinks that she’s just happier putting as much distance as possible between herself and her dad. She lets out a slow sigh and hops onto the stone railing.

“I should have said that to him and more,” she says almost wistfully. “I wish you’d told me. I’m not even sure what to call you right now.”

Krista chuckles sadly. “I don’t know myself. Krista feels like a lie now, but I’m not Historia.”

“Who do you want to be?”

Krista says nothing for a moment. She fiddles with the gauzy pink sleeves of her outer robe and paces slowly around the balcony. “I don’t know,” she whispers. “But there’s no real way I could ever be Historia Reiss so…”

“Krista - Historia - ” Ymir makes a face. “Whoever you are - that’s not what I asked. I asked who you _want_ to be, not who you _can’t_ be. It doesn’t matter to me which you choose as long as _you’re_ choosing based on what _you_ want. Your dad can go fuck himself for all I care.”

“He’s the Minister of Magic, Ymir.”

“So?” Ymir snorts loudly and crosses her arms across her chest. “Come _on,_ Kris, he’s an asshole. You said so yourself! Who cares what he wants?”

“A sizable part of the magical community does,” says Krista dryly. “Look - I just - who would believe me? Who would even back me up on that?”

“Well, I mean, I’m not saying you have a couple of friends in high places but - er - have you considered whose ball we’re at?”

Krista shakes her head. “I can’t ask her to do that - not after the loan. I can’t ask her to stick her neck out for me again, and Mikasa too - I know she’s next on your list because she’s Miss Future Wizard Lawyer - ”

“I don’t think you’d even need to ask, hun.”

“ _Shush._ I’m not letting them risk their careers any more for me when it’s - it’s just _so much easier_ to be Krista Lenz.” She huffs, collapsing in a heap in the corner of the balcony and running frustrated fingers through the delicate curls in her hair. “Krista Lenz can live with her girlfriend in peace, and Historia Reiss disrupts that, so no matter how nice it sounds - no matter how much I want to stop _lying_ about who I am…” Krista lets out a shuddering sigh and slumps onto the pillar behind her. “I wish I could, Ymir. I wish I could be Historia Reiss and still live my life the way I want.”

Ymir smirks. She hops nimbly off the railing to kneel in front of her girlfriend and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “Sounds to me like you’re on your way there,” she murmurs. “Historia.”

  
  


_9.38 pm_

Reiner finds him loitering in the entrance hall. He’s sullen, and sulky, and Reiner’s honestly surprised he doesn’t storm off at the sight of him. Instead, he studies him, swilling the gillywater around in his glass. “Have you made a decision, then?” he asks.

The indifference in his tone makes Reiner’s stomach turn. “She won’t back us, Bertl.”

“So, yes, then.” Bertholdt snorts and pushes himself off the wall. “Good bye, Reiner.”

“No - Bertholdt - listen to me.” Reiner makes a grab for his wrist and holds it tight, almost afraid he’ll disappear if he loosens his hold even a little. “I spoke to her - I _tried_ \- and she - _rightfully_ \- wants nothing to do with us. And I don’t even blame her! We were both awful to her in school - me especially - she owes us nothing, Bertl but - ”

“Let go of me.”

“If it’s a choice between losing my birthright and losing you, then - ” Reiner swallows, and his grip around Bertholdt’s wrist tightens. “Then let’s just go. Right now. While no one’s watching and while no one can stop us.”

Bertholdt pauses. His face is usually an open book, but tonight, Reiner feels like he’s forgotten how to read. And then -

“So _that’s_ what this is about, then.”

Reiner’s breath hitches in his throat, and when he does remember how to read Bertl’s features, he finds something close to terror on his face. He turns, and what little blood left in his face leaves it when he comes face to face with Annie.

“I wondered,” she says quietly. “Armin and I overheard you arguing before.”

Bertholdt sucks in a breath. “Annie - please don’t - ”

“They won’t hear anything from me,” she says. “Where will you go?”

“We hoped we wouldn’t have to,” says Reiner. It feels as if she can look right through him, and he stares at her reflection in the marble floor because it’s easier than looking at her properly. “But it’s not worth it if…”

“If we’re not together,” Bertholdt finishes, easing his wrist out of Reiner’s of hand and replacing it with his own. “And we can’t be if… if our families have their way.”

Annie snorts at them, and she glances back at the ballroom - at Armin, Reiner realizes - and shakes her head. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “I know what that’s like.”

The pause that follows hangs in the air, pregnant and palpable, and Reiner’s chest feels like it might explode if Annie doesn’t break it soon. But, at last, she sighs and turns away.

“Do what you need to do,” she says at last. “You’re not forgiven. I don’t know that I have it in me to do that after the hell you put me and Armin through in school. But I’ll back you if you need it.”

Reiner’s chest almost does explode, and he very nearly collapses as relief floods his system. “Thank you,” he manages, squeezing Bertholdt’s fingers.

Annie shrugs, and she waves and strides purposefully back into the ballroom without another word.

  
  


_9.45 pm_

The grandfather clock at the far end of the ballroom tolls quarter to, and Mr. Leonhardt clears his throat and climbs behind the lecturn, tapping a spoon against his wine glass. “Excuse me, everyone,” he says. “I’d like to propose a toast.”

The crowd hushes, and he beckons at Annie to come forward.

“I realize tonight has been an interesting night,” he says.

The crowd murmurs - the heads of the other pureblood families scoff, but Armin and the others grin at her from their various places in the ballroom, and Annie can’t help but grin a little back.

“But as this evening comes to a close, I would like to thank you all for being here tonight in honour of my daughter.” Mr. Leonhardt pauses and offers her a small smile. “She has grown into a beautiful, resourceful woman who is unwavering in the face of adversity; a woman who knows who she is and what is right; and a daughter I am proud to have and follow into the future.”

“Hear, hear!” calls Eren, and the friends Annie has in the audience chuckle and raise their glasses.

“Thanks dad,” murmurs Annie, a little red, even. “Um. If I could?”

“Of course,” says Mr. Leonhardt, stepping aside.

Annie takes a breath. “I understand that a number of you have reservations about my… priorities,” she says. The urge to be frank is almost overwhelming, but she squashes it down and continues. “But those who do should understand that there is little point in keeping to ourselves. I aim to take my family’s business forward by opening partnerships internationally and by investing in ideas regardless of blood status and other discriminations. And while I know that many of you will refuse on principle…” She takes a breath, and she spots Krista standing with Ymir, and Bertholdt and Reiner waiting at the entrance of the ballroom. “I trust that your sons and daughters are the ones who will join me in your stead.” She finds the Brauns, and the Hoovers, and the Minister, and she smirks. “Have a good night, everyone.”

  
  
  
  
  


_fin_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_BONUS_

“No offense,” says Armin, “but you had this coming.”

Eren scowls - in part because Armin is right, and in part because the sunlight shining through the _many_ windows in the Leonhardt dining room makes his him want to drown himself. It’s breakfast time. Mr. Leonhardt had been gracious enough to let Annie’s personal guests stay the night at the estate and, so far, Eren counts Armin, Ymir, Krista, Petra, and Annie seated at the long, rectangular table and he feels nothing but hatred for them if only because they don’t look like they want to die.

Annie smirks. “You’ll be pleased to know that Mikasa and Professor Ackerman aren’t doing well either.”

“Murgh.”

“Honestly, Eren, what did you _think_ was going to happen?”

“Please be quiet.”

“I think we should take pity on him,” says Krista, nibbling at her toast. “Madame Ral, don’t you have anything for hangovers on you at all?”

Petra snorts to herself. “I did warn them,” she says frankly, lathering a thick layer of jam onto her scone. “As it is, I’m not a nurse today.” She smirks. “And I’m not their’s anymore.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Sorry I've been away! Towards the end of last year, I worked horrendous amounts of overtime and then I went on a truly well deserved break in Japan and also I got engaged, so it's been a busy time and I'm sorry I wasn't able to finish this sooner than now!
> 
> 2) This ending feels like such a mess but I just needed it out of my system. I hope it came out okay!
> 
> 3) Apparently it's Ann's birthday in a few days and it's Annie Week on Tumblr, so happy Annie Week and happy birthday to our favourite girl! Here's hoping she comes back soon!
> 
> 4) I intended for this to be like an open ended finale to the Hogwarts AU but then there's Krista becoming Historia, and Reiner and Bert and whether or not they abandon their birthrights so I guess this AU is just never going to end #helpme
> 
> 5) For those interestes in the girls' dress robes: http://jellyjay.tumblr.com/post/172032052676

**Author's Note:**

> 1) If you haven't read the previous installments, Reginald, or Reg, is the name I gave Armin's grandpa because he doesn't have one in canon.
> 
> 2) I was gonna do this for aruani week like I did last year but I am weak and I have commitment issues. Idk that I have enough plot ammo for seven whole days anyway. 
> 
> 3) Also, I told [Katsy0c0](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Katsy0c0) that I would do a ball installment literally a year ago. SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG KATIE.
> 
> 4) Debutante balls went out of fashion when Queen Elizabeth II abolished the tradition in the 1950's and there is no mention of anyone having anything similar in Harry Potter, but I can totally justify this fic by saying a) wizards probs don't give a crap what traditions are and aren't abolished in the muggle world, and b) we never really got to see what it was like to be considered Upper Class Wizarding Society, let alone what it was like to be a girl coming of age in Upper Class Wizarding Society. TL;DR, I'm having some fun with old traditions, so sue me.


End file.
